


Happily Ever After

by Kitkatzgr8



Category: Original Work
Genre: Comas - Freeform, Competitive Board Gaming, Fantasy, Fast Food Restaurants, Gen, I wrote these for my creative writing class, Starbucks, Stereotypical Fairy Tale Gone Wrong, i like to think that i'm funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-05-08 20:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkatzgr8/pseuds/Kitkatzgr8
Summary: A story that the Narrator just wants to go as planned.A modern twist on a well-known fairy tale.A suspicious tour given by your new 'manager' at Burger King.A betrayal by a friend.And a story told through a Starbucks napkin.(Basically just all of the random stories I wrote for my creative writing class this year.)





	1. Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> *Prompt: Write a story less than 2,000 words. Go wild.*
> 
> A totally regular, completely normal, absolutely stereotypical fairy tale.
> 
> The hero wants to be left alone. 
> 
> The princess wants everyone to get this over with. 
> 
> The huntsman wants it to end.
> 
> The unnecessary background character wants an upgrade.
> 
> And the Narrator just wants the story to go as planned.

Once upon a time, in a small village in the land of magic, there lived a young boy named Timothy. Timothy was a simple lad, but, as you will soon see, had a great destiny set out before him.

Timothy looked upwards at the sky in confusion, momentarily stopping what he was doing in the fields. “Who goes there?” he shouted loudly.

But, nobody was there.

Suddenly, a look of fear crossed the young boy’s face. “Oh no,” he mumbled. “Oh no, I’m the next one, aren’t I?”

The boy, of course, was obviously confused. He must have been out in the sun too long or something and had absolutely no clue what he was talking about.

“Hansel talked about this before he left,” Timothy thought as he dropped his shovel and wildly looked around him. “The voice, dictating his thoughts.”

But, this is besides the point of the story. Let us move onto the good part.

“Wait, please, don't! I’m boring, really, honestly!” Timothy suddenly shouted at nobody, being the very confused boy that he was. “D-don’t choose m-me...” His voice cracked. “P-please, don’t make me the protagonist,” he whispered.

Suddenly, a girl ran out from the forest to the left of the fields. “Help!” the princess screamed, running towards Timothy. “A dragon has overtaken my kingdom, destroyed my castle, and taken our riches! I am in need of a strong, able-bodied man to come save me; a damsel in distress!” Pausing expectantly, the princess looked at Timothy with pleading eyes.

And Timothy, of course, having dreams of glory and riches, and thinking the princess was super hot, immediately-

“Past the fence, first cottage on the left, guy named Daniel. He’s buff. I-I’m sure he’ll be able to help!”

The princess glanced at him in confusion. The boy was… obviously just making a joke! Of _course_ he’d help the princess! It was his desti-

“No… please?” Timothy pleaded, glancing up at the sky with a fearful expression.

Suddenly, there was a rustling in the bushes, and, emerging from the shadows, there was a… _Oh. My. Lord_ . Why? I swear to- Ugh _, fine._ Non-climatically, a plain figure appeared in the distance, boringly taking the road as he slowly moseyed his way towards Timothy. Having absolutely no style or sense of drama buildup, the kid stopped, yawned, then turned towards the hero.

“So, you got ‘chosen,’ too?” he asked, sounding bored of the situation even though it had just began.

“Y-yeah,” Timothy stuttered. “I… I’m…” he almost breaks into tears. “But I _can’t._ N-not the protagonist! I.. I don’t want t-to…”

Of course the boy wanted to! But he, being _extremely_ stupid-

The other boy waved his hand dismissively. “Okay, we get it, you’re making us do this stupid story. Whatever. But could at least acknowledge the kid doesn’t want to go? And maybe stop calling him stupid? Let’s be honest, he’s probably the smartest person in the village for not immediately following the “magical” voice in your head that “makes all your dreams come true” and all that bull. I’ve heard of you, _Narrator_ , and nobody here wants any part in this. _Especially_ after hearing about the candy witch incident.”

Oh what- _ever_. Sure, she turned out to be the antagonist, not the protagonist as she had been told, but she was still a part of a timeless story loved by all.

“Who cares what she was a part of? She can’t exactly enjoy it because, oh wait, what happened to her again? Oh yeah, that's right, she got _burned alive in her oven.”_

This was all besides the point of the story, and we’re just gonna move right along here.

“Hey, it’s totally going to be fine,” the boy continued, trying to calm Timothy. “We just have to play through whatever silly story _He_ has planned for us, and we can go home, okay?”

As a side note to this story, the Narrator would like to cut in and say that their stories are completely amazing and in no way ‘silly.’

Seeing as the huntsman-

“Wait, I’m a _huntsman?”_

-was only playing a supporting role in this particular tale-

“But I’ve never even _hunted_ before!”

-it was not necessary for the hero to ask his name.

“What is your name?’ asked Timothy, timidly.

_Motherf-_

The huntsman shrugged. “It doesn’t matter; let’s just get this story over with.”

_Thank you._

“Second thought: my name is **~~_[scribbled-out words]_~~**. Suck it, _Narrator_.”

Your treatment of the plot doesn't warrant you a name. Maybe you'd get one if you started following the rules, _Huntsman_ _._ Or, should I say,  _supporting character_?

“Fight me,” the huntsman muttered.

“I’m Timothy,” the hero quietly supplied.

“And _I’m_ still waiting for the _hero_ to come save my _castle_ from further damage by a fire-breathing _dragon_ so I can just get this day _over with_ ,” the princess cut in. Then, using the high-pitched voice she had used earlier, she added, “Oh, a huntsman! With your sword, I’m sure _you_ can help this incompetent hero save my castle!”

“Actually, I have a bow,” the huntsman corrected. “Which I have never used. I have no clue what my purpose here is.” Which was fine, because _someone_ far more capable had a clue of what his purpose was if only he _listened to that certain someone._

“Screw off,” the huntsman mumbled. “Also, I have a name. _Use it_.”

No, you don't,  _Huntsman._

" ** _ ~~[several more lines of scribbled out words]~~ _** You can't censor my name out forever, _Narrator_."

"Can you please stop screaming your name? I think you've officially established that your name is  ~~ ** _[more scribbled out words]_**~~ ," Timothy said quietly, shrinking back from the pissed-off man.

The princess glared at the huntsman. “Bow, sword, whatever, just _somebody_ go kill the dragon before the west wing is destroyed? Please? I’ve spent _way_ too long designing my room for it to go up in flames!”

“Well, at least _someone_ is into their role,” the huntsman muttered. “Take a chill pill, princess.”

The princess shot him a glare, then flipped him off. “Well _screw you too,_ I have been raised with no other goal than to become the next princess to be sacrificed to the Narrator’s story so _sorry if all of my training to be a frantic damsel-in-distress doesn’t give off a ‘chill’ vibe.”_ Then, in her panicked voice: “Please, hurry! I’m sure my father can offer you something in exchange for saving us, like half the kingdom, or-”

“This is stupid,” the huntsman muttered. Suddenly, his hand slapped over his own mouth, and his eyes widened in alarm. With the annoyance of the intentionally-chosen-just-to-be-a-supporting-character- and-not-talk-back-to-the-narrator now silenced, the story was free to move onward.

 _Finally_.

“Yay, time for us to go on an adventure!” a squeaky voice cuts into the conversation.

_I swear-_

“Umm, greetings, young one,” the princess says in her 'princess' voice, playing the role she had been assigned as she daintily kneels in front of the smaller figure. “What are you doing here, child?”

“I’m gonna be a hero!” The small figure of the child- who looked to be no older than 7 at best- jumps up and down in excitement.

“Pardon me, but, based on the commentary provided by the Narrator, I do not believe that you are supposed to be in the story,” Timothy says timidly.

The hero was absolutely correct, this child had come out of nowhere and was not supposed to play any part in this story. 

“No, no, no!” the kid squeaked. Pointing up at the sky, the boy jumps up and down energetically. “I was meant to be the protagonist! I can hear the Narrator too, see?" Closing his eyes, he puts his pointer fingers to his temples. He couldn’t hear anything, but he nodded as though he could.

The princess let a smile grace her lips as she gently put a hand on the child's shoulder. "And someday, you may be. But right now, you can not be here. Please go home."

"No!" the kid screamed. "I'm supposed to be the hero!"

The huntsman mumbles something, and the Narrator allows him to drop his hand from his mouth in order to tell off this... mistake. However, once the hand was removed, he shot the sky an annoyed I’m-not-going-to-do-what-you-tell-me-to look and didn’t say anything.

_**Spoiler Alert: the huntsman's arrogance might suggest an untimely and painful death in the future.** _

The huntsman groans. “Even death would be better than being stuck in this hell,” he mutters under his breath.

“Mh hmm… I see, I see,” the kid mumbles. Then, his eyes shoot open. “Yup! The Narrator says I’m supposed to be the protagonist!” The Narrator had not said anything of the sort. The child was suspiciously eager to become the main character, and was as a result, getting on the poor Narrator’s nerves. He might also now be marked down to fulfill his destiny by playing “Child-Killed-By-Witch Number 2” in the next Fairy Tale the Narrator was planning.

“Being a hero isn’t fun and games, kid,” the huntsman _finally_  cut in. “Go home. Hope that the Narrator doesn’t choose you. Life your life. Seriously, why do you even... just go home already!”

"Because I'm the hero," the child said slowly, as if the older people were too stupid to understand what he was saying.

The princess's grip tightened on the child's shoulder, and her smile dropped. " _Sweetheart_ , how do I say this kindly? _Shut_. _Up_. I don't have the _time_  nor _patience_ to deal with you right now, so just friggin' _go home_  before I _lose_ it and become the villain that kills innocent kids like _you_. Is that  _gucci_ enough for you, _sweetheart_?"

Frowning, the kid turned and stormed off, heading back to wherever the heck he had come from. 

"Well... I h-have to say,” Timothy stuttered, cutting into the conversation. “It’s not all bad... I guess? I mean, I now do suddenly have the ability to drop some sick prose.” Coughing lightly to clear his throat, he dramatically raises his arms and looks wistfully off into the distance.

_“To the castle we must travel_

_Trio together we must not unravel_

_Lifted oft upon wings of-”_

The huntsman rolls his eyes and waves a hand to cut off the rhyme. “Okay, I’m just gonna stop you right there. So, admittedly, being the protagonist might have some perks, but-”

“W-wait, actually, since I’m the hero, do I automatically get amazing fighting skills? Along with the rhyming?”

“Do you know how you could _test_ that theory? By going to my castle and _killing_ that dragon!”

Okay, this had gone on too long, they were _long_ past their page limit, and they just needed to _get on with it_.

A humongous fire-breathing dragon burst out of the woods.

“Wowie, no description of the dragon, no gentle transition, just… _bam_ , dragon,” the huntsman stated sarcastically as though he didn’t know that he was the reason necessary for the abrupt transition just because he couldn’t just _go along with this carefully plotted-out story that had been worked on for weeks._

Now, with no other way to disrupt the plot of this very-well-thought-out-like-please-guys- I-swear-it-would-be-good-if-you-just-went-with-it story, the party was forced to-

“So… c-could we just… run? Like, how fast is this thing?”

 _It’s_ a _humongous dragon with wings, how fast do you think it is, Timothy? How. Fast. Do. You._ **_Think_** _. It. Is? Just_ **_fight_ ** _it already before I lose my grip on the plot!_

“...losing his grip on the plot… of course…” the huntsman thought. Sitting down on the ground-

The huntsman stood up. “No,” he said firmly. "You don't get to tell me what to do anymore." He dropped his bow to the ground and just stood there, facing the dragon.

It was then that the Narrator realized what was happening. The huntsman was refusing to follow the story _completely_. This was far more complicated to deal with than the occasional sarcastic brats that purposefully screwed with the plot. This was… this was…

Too bad he was promptly burnt to a crisp by the fire-breathing dragon that he had stupidly decided not to fight. But, in the wake of their friend’s death, the remaining characters would learn an important lesson. You could not deviate from your destiny.

You had to follow it.

In sudden realization of this, Timothy reached to his belt and pulled out his sword that had totally always been there, and-

He didn’t.

“O-Oh… _oh_ ,” Timothy suddenly realized. Then, he dropped his sword. Sitting on the ground, he closed his eyes, then uncharacteristically smiled. “Fine. Let the dragon fight me. I’m sure it’ll turn out _great_.” He laughed, finally showing the bravery that he had always had inside him. Then, his voice dropped to a whisper. “What kind of boring story would it be if the protagonist died, Narrator? Where the princess died because the hero couldn't protect her? Nobody likes a story where the hero doesn’t win. Where everyone dies. Where you, the  _villain,_ wins.”

And for once… the hero was right.

Not hearing anything else, Timothy cracked open an eye, then blinked in surprise as the dragon ambled back into the forest. There was no point in a climactic fight if there _was_ no fight.

The Narrator had lost his power.

“W-we… we did it…” Timothy breathed. Turning to face the princess beside him, he smiled slightly, and the princess smiled back.

They sat for a moment in the field, just listening to the sounds around them, before he turned back to the princess. “I still get half the kingdom, right?”

They broke into laughter.

And so, the duo turned and began walking into the sunset, towards Timothy’s village. The death of the huntsman still weighed on their minds, but they still felt happy that they had avenged his death. They had defeated the villain and were finally freed from The Narrator’s clutches. They could now go live their lives.

 

 

Happily. Ever. After.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Just as the Narrator had planned it._

 


	2. I Saved a Girl With a Kiss (A.K.A. Suck It, Robert)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Prompt: 'Kidnapped Characters Assignment.' Take the characters or plot from a story, book, movie, etc that you enjoy and put your own spin on it.*

I was voted “Most Likely to Succeed” in high school. Well, I was nominated for “Dreamiest Eyes,” and would’ve won it, too, if half the votes hadn’t been “accidentally” dropped into the shredder by my contender’s girlfriend on the way to the yearbook committee meeting. So Robert ended up winning that title, and I ended up being voted “Most Likely to Succeed.”  I mean, not being petty or anything. It was a high school yearbook page, and I’m not that shallow. But I do have the dreamier eyes, and should have then been given the half-page that was filled with Robert Anderson’s dull green eyes, not shared the page with “Best Personality,” “Class Clown,” and “Cutest Couple.”

But, again, it doesn’t matter. It’s cool. Whatever. I would’ve won _all_ the categories if that was an option. It’s just the kind of guy I am. But, let me make it clear, I never would have been nominated for “Best Kisser of Dead and/or Comatose Girls.” I’m not sure that title would have gone down too well with the yearbook staff, actually. Doesn’t really roll off the tongue like “Dreamiest Eyes,” which, again, just to clarify, I should have gotten.

So, when I kissed the girl, the last thing I expected was for someone to throw a bagel at me and scream to get away from the corpse.  

I was King of Cortland High School; I basically ran that place. I’m the stereotypical rich kid that lives in a little town whose dad’s great-great-somethingth grandfather founded, except I’m better. All throughout school, I was “that” kid, of course, the really popular one that everyone knows and loves. Every school has one; they just don’t have one as amazing as me. I would probably would have been that way even if my family didn’t run the town. Great hair, super athletic, decently smart, and would’ve-been-the-winner-of-”Dreamiest-Eyes”-if-Jenna-had-

dumped-Robert-a-week-earlier-and-didn’t-rig-the-votes-in-his-favor. So, yeah, when I graduated Senior year, it was a big deal. I was the top of the top of the top, and now I was headed onto bigger things. And what could be a better way of celebrating that than driving up to my grandparent’s cabin and throwing the liiiiiitest party with all of my friends?

It really wasn’t my fault. Was it my idea to throw the party? Yes. Did I choose the location? Yes. Did I decide to procrastinate leaving until it was 11 at night? Yeah. But was it my choice to get lost in the woods? No. So honestly, I’m in the clear here.

And when lost in the woods with no cell service and about an hour away from the nearest town, it was only logical that I got out of the safety of my car and looked for help at the nearest, random building I found. “Most Likely to Be Successful,” remember? How could I do wrong?

The cabin itself was pretty sketch, but at that point, with it beginning to rain, and it being 1 in the morning, I wasn’t too picky.

A short guy, couldn’t have been more than 4’10, answered my knocking by asking what the heck I was doing in the middle of nowhere at 1 in the morning. Explaining my plight, he grudgingly took pity on me and let me in. Another guy, who looked so similar to the first midget that I couldn’t have told them apart if I tried, said he didn’t know where the road I needed to get to was and that I must had gotten more lost than I thought. He said he’d go find a map and left. I asked the other guy if they were related, and he said they were brothers. Apparently he had 6 brothers living in the cabin with him. I asked if they were all as ridiculously short as he was. He glared at me and went to go help his brother find the map.

I honestly just wanted to see if they had an open room I could sleep in. Maybe they had an extra bed, or one of the dudes could take one for the team and sleep on the couch or something, I dunno. Even a grimy bed in a house of five-footers would be better than my truck. Barely. So while the little dudes went to go find a map, I decided to open the door to my left and see if there was a spare bed in it. Flipping the light switch on the wall, there was a moment of darkness, then a small ‘ping’ as the single bulb in the room flickered to life, revealing a small bedroom.

Well, there was a bed, but it wasn’t spare. I could see a person lying on top of the covers, unmoving. Probably of the brothers shortie had mentioned.

Tentatively, I made my way deeper into the room, hearing the floor creak as I took another step.

And then, I tripped.

I tripped right across the room.

Well, not really ‘right across the room,’ I guess. It was more like, how do I say this, right onto the bed where I then accidentally body-slammed the person off the bed and ended up in an accidental liplock on the floor.

...Yeah, I don’t know how that happened, either.

In the next few seconds following my impossible blunder, three things happened in quick succession.

First: The girl opened her eyes. Yeah, it was a girl. Which kinda made it a bit more awkward, seeing as how all… _that_ , had happened.

Second: I screamed. Well, let’s just say I… yelled? Yelling is manly, right? Asserting dominance with a raised voice or something? Yeah, let’s say I yelled.

And third: I was hit with a half eaten sesame seed bagel thrown from the doorway, through which a different midget was watching this disaster, mouth open and face cycling through too many emotions for me to get a proper read on how he was feeling about this.

“Why… why would you kiss a corpse?” he finally choked out.

“Corpse?” I asked, confused, girl still pinned under me.

Then the girl made a choking noise, and I quickly got up as she rolled to the side and coughed up an apple slice.

Because this day couldn't get any weirder. Also, gross.

“Snow?” the man said quietly, obviously confused. Then, louder, “Wait, Snow, you’re alive?”

  
Another man, even shorter than the two I had met, peeked around the corner. “Snow?”

Soon, all 7 of the midgets were in the room, crowding around the girl.

“The kid’s weight must’ve pushed the apple out of her throat,” the midget to the right of me muttered.

“Doesn’t explain why he was kissing her,” the one to my left said, turning to look up at me with a disgusted expression.

“...Yeah, what was that about?” another said from behind me.

“What the frick dude? That’s disgusting. Why would you do that?”

...They weren’t going to believe me, were they? _I_ wouldn’t believe me. Like, honestly, I just “tripped” and “accidentally” kissed her?

So, what else could I do?

“She’s pretty,” I said flatly.

There was a moment of silence.

“She’s… pretty. She’s pretty. You see a corpse of a “pretty” girl that’s been dead for a week and you just suddenly have an urge to kiss it?”

“She’s been dead for a week? Why haven’t you buried her by now, then?”

Apparently my common sense wasn’t too well accepted in that cabin, and soon found myself sitting back in my truck at 1:30 in the morning, looking at the map the girl from the cabin was holding as I drove back the way I came. When I asked why she was coming with me, she just simply said I saved her life and that the “dwarves,” as she nicknamed them, were hazardous to her health if they couldn’t tell the difference between a coma and death. Not that I really minded. Whatever outweighed me accidentally body slamming was fine by me.  

So... yeah. Not exactly how I imagined life going after I graduated high school. But you know what? It’s fine. Screw “Dreamiest Eyes,” I _should_ have been nominated for “Best Kisser of Corpses.” Because if I can save a girl with a kiss- which nobody else can claim they’ve done, by the way- that just might make me the best kisser around. Suck it Robert. Who’s the real winner here?


	3. That’s What You Get for Pushing Us Out of That Amazing Bathroom and Right Into That Very Inconveniently Placed Employee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Prompt: Write a no-longer-than-500-word story using second person point-of-view. Ex: you giving someone else a tour of a new place.*

Um… hey. What am I doing? Oh, nothing you need to work about. Just… restaurant maintenance, you know? Yes, I do have to be on the floor, hidden behind this counter, to do this. No, you don’t need to kneel next to me, just pretend I’m not here. It’s just…. regular… restauranty stuff you’d have to work here to understand.        

Oh... you do work here? Just got hired, huh? Explains why you look so nervous. I remember how I felt when I first got my job at this… McDonalds…

This is a Burger King, you say? Ahahahaha.... just testing you! So, what’re you talking to me for? Hmm…  you were told you’d be shown around by a… Nancy? The assistant manager? Oh...kay shoot yup, that’s me, totally, I’m definitely Nancy, haha, yeah, let me show you around, quick, that dude at the register is looking at us weird. Hurry up, come behind the counter, just duck down and… yup, come on.

Am I sure I’m Nancy? Yes, I’m sure. Did you just assume my gender? Well… no, I am a guy. What, just because I’m a guy doesn’t mean I- quick hide behind this big, metal sink thing- can’t be named Nancy? Shut up for a second, I can hear someone coming…

Whew, okay, they’re gone. Why was I hiding from him? I don’t think you’re really in a position to be asking too many questions, newbie. That was just… Bob… Bobbinson…

Yes, I know the names of my coworker-buddy-friendo-pals! How dare you insult me like that! Why is Wendy's hiring such a salty person? What- no, no! I _said_ Burger King!

Okay, uh, here’s the… well, it has all the ingredients and stuff, so I’m going to assume... I mean- Here’s the pantry! It’s where all the ingredients are. And here’s the… floor.

Oh please, my tours are fantastic! The floor is the most important part of this Jack-in-the-Box, and now you know where it is! If you stopped critiquing my tour-giving skills, you’d probably know a lot more about this In-n-Out! “Do you really work here? Are you sure your name is Nancy? That’s not a stove that’s the freezer!” I’m. Sick. Of. It. And yes, that is how you sound.

And there you go again! “Why are you shoving those fries into your pockets?” You don’t even have the right to ask such ridiculous questions to a figure of authority! I am the manager of this Chick-fil-a, and you will treat me like it unless you want to be fired! Now be helpful for once and help me fit these chicken nuggets into my backpack.  

And here’s the bathroom. Hopefully self explanatory. Let’s move on to the…. Actually, how about we take a closer look?

Let’s be really quiet for a second, okay? So you can fully appreciate this… bathroom…

Great, and now there’s shouting. That’s what you get for pushing us out of that amazing bathroom and right into that very inconsiderately placed employee. Actually, I think that’s a good enough tour. I’m just going to grab these burgers…. just a few more… yeah 15 should be enough… Oh shoot they see me. Uh, I’m gonna go check these out back… there. Managers office. Yes, I’m aware it’s labeled fire exit, but it’s totally the manager's office. Have fun at your new job, and I hope this tour was helpful- bye!


	4. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Prompt: Two-page story using mostly dialogue*

 

“I just can’t believe you would do this to me! We’ve been friends for 14 years!”

“Okay, listen, I didn’t _mean_ to, I just-”

“Like heck you didn’t mean to!” she spat. “We were a team! Unofficial, probably against the rules, and probably a little unfair, but still, we made a deal before we started. And you just threw it away! Threw _me_ away, basically!”

“Josie…” the boy said quietly. “Please, just open the door. Can we please just talk about this?”

“Don’t you dare try to justify yourself, Trevor!” the girl snapped. “Trevor? More like _‘traitor_ ,’ you jerk!”

“Okay, okay, I can see why you’re mad, but I didn’t have a choice!” Then, almost as an afterthought, he mumbled, “And… it’s just… you’re making too big a deal of this, okay? Uh, just open the door? Please?”

“Me? Making too big of a deal of this? I was so-” Her voice almost rose into a scream, but, thinking of the others in the house, took a few calming breaths before starting again. “I was so close! You’re the one not seeing what a big deal this really is!”

Trevor sighed, trying the doorknob again. “Josie,” he said, calm voice masking an underlying tone of annoyance. “It was just one card.”  
“It was a ‘Draw 4’ card, you jerk! And you knew, you _knew_ that I was one round away from getting an ‘UNO!’ I could’ve won! But nooooo, you just had to play a freaking ‘Draw 4’ card! A. Fricking. Draw. Four. Card. Not even a ‘Draw 2!’ You basically just _handed_ Ryan our victory! You handed Ryan that $5 Sonic™ gift card!”

“It was the only card I had…"

“Yeah, well guess what? That yellow 6 was the only card _I_ had, and it would’ve actually won the game! Unlike that puny blue 2 that you played right before Ryan won!”

“Well, I didn’t consider that! Sorry I couldn’t _magically_ see your hand and exactly what card you had!”

There was a pause.

“I thought I could trust you to trust me to win,” Josie finally whispered. “I thought you were my friend.” There was shuffling on the other side of the door as she got up from where she had undoubtedly been lying on the floor, then silence.

Trevor sighed, then ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly. Based on past experiences, she wouldn’t be out for an hour or so, and it would be a couple days after that for her to actually talk to him again. It was so hard being friends with a really competitive, over dramatic theater nerd sometimes.  

 _Well, at least it was just UNO_ , he thought as he turned to walk back to the living room, ready to join in whatever game his friends were playing next. _Nothing could be worse than the time we played monopoly._


	5. Caramel Frappuccino for Nota Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Prompt:  Write a story that you will ultimately copy onto a napkin. There should be a REASON this story is on a napkin.*
> 
> (Different fonts indicate different handwriting. And yes, I did have to end up writing this on a napkin, which isn't the easiest thing in the world. Especially when you have chicken-scratch handwriting.)

_Day One: No sight of ‘Steve’ in the vicinity. Return tomorrow for more intel. My cover is safe, and the position allows me an optimal scope of the shoppe._

 

kk i doubt anybody is gonna look @ a stupid napkin 4 secret notes so i dont think that calling crime lord daniel derkota ‘steve’ is gonna help the situation because i might just get confuzed

 

_For future reference, I would advise you not to walk up to the counter and loudly offer me this napkin for continual correspondence. Disposal of the napkin after message has been received is not only practical, but also encouraged._

 

i dunno isnt the agency going through this whole green initiative thing or whatevr? like it seems 2 me that reusing the napkin would actually help promote the change

 

_Day Three: ‘Steve’ still has not made an appearance. Maybe information regarding the coffee shop where he is said to frequent should be revised._

 

rude. u like didnt evn ansr my comment. i actually took time to tell u abt taking care of the planet and u just ignore me. what kind of friend r u?

 

_As a quick reminder, I would like to again encourage you to dispose of the napkin as soon as the intel has been committed to memory, and can later be relayed to the agency. Also, this is strictly a professional relationship. Let’s keep it that way._

 

whatevr ur the 1 that keeps reusing the napkin so like its all ur fault. and oops am i supposed 2 memorize this stuff? ive just been snapchatting pics of it 2 the bo$$

 

_‘Steve’ still has not been sighted. And I am extremely confused as to why you have been assigned to this mission. I am beginning to question if this correspondence is necessary, and if I should just risk getting the intel to headquarters myself. Giving you a free frappuccino just to give you access to a napkin containing top secret information everyday seems a bit impractical seeing how you have approached the situation thus far._

 

oh whatevs i know you love me a-latte <3 speaking of which, i know we agreed on the ‘caramel frappuccino for Nota Spy’ being the ‘code order’ for intel or whatever but i’m starting to get sick of it so can we change that to a ‘tall, half-caff, soy latte @ 120 degrees w/ room 4 cream?’

 

_First off, I would like to mention that we never agreed on that ridiculous name. And second off, no, I will not jeopardize the mission or my cover in order to give you the exact latte you desire. I also would like to inform you that I have submitted papers to the agency that may deem you unfit to be a part of this particular mission. I hope I will be facing a competent replacement for you tomorrow at 4._

 

nah they love me 2 much 2 fire me but its cute that u tried lol

 

_You have not been replaced. I am disappointed in the agency. But, as a professional, I will not back down, and I will try to bear your existence. If I could again urge you to keep this correspondence professional, that would be satisfactory._

 

tryn 2 blend n w/ the kewl kidz ur 2 boring 2 undrstnd

 

_The grammar in that sentence killed something inside me. No sighting of ‘Steve.’ Can we please start using a different napkin? This one is almost unuseable now._

 

well now that i have so many happy memories connected to 2 u with it, i’m not sure i want to use another one also hey could you tlk 2 ur manager? it smells like updog in here

 

_I am am sorry, I am unfamiliar with this term. Do you think ‘Steve’ has caught on and is trying to dispose of us? Is this ‘updog’ a harmful substance to breathe in? What is ‘up dog?’_

 

nothing much whats up w/ u lol?

 

_I quit._


End file.
